


Kryptonite

by Lucky107



Series: Only You (And You Alone) [12]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Gen, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 11:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15218102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucky107/pseuds/Lucky107
Summary: The bunker gets awful dark at night.





	Kryptonite

The bunker gets awful dark at night.

Not all of the Whitetails were ready to commit to a life underground when Jacob Seed forced them into the hills and Eli respected that. The bunker correlates with the surface: when the sun goes down, the lights go down. It was always important to Eli that his men be treated like human beings instead of mere meat.

Each and every Whitetail he recruited became an integral piece of a bigger picture. Eli made a careful distinction between the people of the Whitetail Militia and the monsters that Jacob’s guerrilla tactics spat out.

They had become the most important thing in his world—his _family_.

And it’s this one thought keeps Sunny Regis awake at night.

She lies blanketed in silence on the tattered leather sofa where it all began and soaks in the darkness that surrounds her. Her eye darts here and there, anywhere but the empty chair where Walker once sat, and her mind is left to wander the empty halls of sleep deprivation late into the night.

When she closes her eye for a moment she can almost hear his voice, as if the echo of his laughter has become trapped within these cold cement walls.

Sunny knows she has no right to ask for the comfort of their kindness on these sleepless nights because this is her atonement, but she doesn’t know how much more she can take and she has nowhere else to turn.

She had let the Whitetails become her family.

 _And I killed them all_ —

The lights flicker on with a static hum and Sunny jackknifes into an upright position.

By the time Staci can voice his intentions, she’s got a gun locked and loaded and trained on the empty door frame. In that moment she’s no longer in the Wolf’s Den, but the Grand View Hotel and a single hang-up on rationale will leave her vulnerable. _Weak_.

“I-it’s just me, Staci Pratt,” comes a voice from somewhere at her back and Sunny relaxes. “I thought you were asleep.”

The relief that rides on the coattails of his anxious stutter leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. She’s come to take comfort in the knowledge that Staci will always be weaker than her and it makes her feel sick.

Slowly, Sunny lowers the firearm onto the television stand and massages her temples to lessen the tension mounting there. She doesn’t bother to find her absent eye patch. Her body is still rigid and eager for a fight—a fact that is not lost on the deputy—but the red slowly bleeds from her vision and she’s reminded of where she is.

Once upon a time she had considered the Wolf’s Den to be her home. It felt _safe_ and it provided the Whitetails with a shelter from the very grim reality that existed just outside those doors.

There was once a semblance of normalcy here and Jacob desecrated it.

 _She_ desecrated it.

Sunny subconsciously counts four, five, six paces to the kitchenette and the sink running, filling a glass. She never turns her head to look, to _confirm_ it, but she maintains the irrational anticipation that Staci might try to blindside her to get a jump on her.

He appears to go about his business with no trace of hostility, though, and Sunny’s adrenaline pops like a balloon.

Jacob may be dead and gone, but in the end he won.

He lies in wait just beneath the surface of Sunny’s skin, coursing through her veins like a sickness. He’s turned her into a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a ticking time bomb destined to destroy the very thing she set out to protect.

A small part of her is consciously aware that it’s only a matter of time before she kills again— _Abraham lifted up his eyes and looked and behold, behind him was a ram, caught in a thicket by his horns_ —and if she hopes to protect _anyone_ , she must abandon the Whitetail Militia and the Resistance, abandon Hope County and all of the memories she has made here.

She must completely erase herself from this existence.

And that’s not _fair_.

Growing up, she had never had a place to call her home on account of her mother’s position as a U.S. Marine. It was all her family could do to be close to her, even if she could never be particularly close to them.

Sunny never pointed fingers as a  girl—an _army brat_ , her high school counselor had told her. It was just the nature of the lifestyle.

But Montana was supposed to be her chance to escape from under it all.

For the first time in twenty three years she was finally beginning to establish something _real_ : there was a sense of companionship in the Whitetail Militia that she had never known before that first summer in Hope County.

It doesn’t make sense that she should have to give it all up for the sake of one man.

 _Staci Pratt_.

 _Hunt_. _Kill_. _Sacrifice_.

Before she even knows what’s come over her, Sunny is shaking like a leaf as she fights to retain control over her emotions.

“I _killed_ people to ensure you got back here alive—” She inhales sharply to combat the threat of tears. “—and yet, every instinct in me says I ought to kill _you_.”

In spite of her words, Staci appears in her peripheral with a cold glass of water.

The bars between them still exist in every form except literal.

Sunny looks anxiously between the glass and his broken face as if she’s expecting some kind of instruction on how to proceed, but she reaches out with cautious hands. Her first sip of the frigid water is tentative, _careful_.

Like it might be _poison_.

Staci takes a seat beside her on the old sofa.

He moves slowly, as if he’s disarming a bomb, but his choice to sit at all is a bold one and it calls to mind the beautiful woman in white on the face of a card. The woman looked gentle, but she tamed a lion with a single touch of her dainty hand.

Staci stares Jacob Seed in the face when he looks into Sunny’s scarred eyes and he’s no longer afraid of what he sees.

 _Strength_.

“You… you saved my life.”

“Roberta never should have asked me to.”

The words cut like a knife as she accuses the absent junior deputy without aim, as if somehow the value of this man’s life is worth less than any other. It’s not Staci’s fault, a voice echoes somewhere in her subconscious, but _boy_ does her conditioned reflexes ever want it to be.

Sunny looks down into the depths of her glass and tries to make sense of the reflection staring back.

“I’ve become some kind of animal—I’ve become _him_ ,” she murmurs, more to herself than to Staci. “I don’t… I don’t know who I am anymore, what I’m _capable_ of.”

He shifts at her side and offers a quiet, “But you _survived_.”

“I… I killed my _friend_ over a bowl of _dog food_ —”

The tears come without warning, silent, and leave warm trails down her cheeks.

“Sunny, y-you’re _strong_ —”

“I’m a _monster_ —!”

The glass, damp with condensation, slips through her trembling fingers and shatters between her feet.

Staci flinches at the sudden noise, but Sunny doesn’t move a muscle. She continues to stare down into the mess she’s made in a perfect calm, as if she’s in shock—and maybe she is.

“How the fuck am I supposed to _live_ like this?” She demands, louder and more aggressive. It’s misguided, but Staci doesn’t turn it away. “I don't—I’m _broken_ , Staci. There’s no place in society for what I’ve become. I’m _dangerous_. How am I supposed to move forward from this? I—”

“— _together_.”

And all at once Sunny feels his hand enclose around hers, _gentle_. Her breath hitches like an airy hiccup.

Just like the woman and the lion, Staci _tames_ her.


End file.
